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It was dark, save for the full moon glaring off every puddle in the street below. There were shadows stretched across every nook and cranny of the road. The only place safe was straight down the middle, but also out in the open. She was counting on her mark risking the exposure though. Humans had a thing about the dark. An irrational fear of the shadows and gloom that made them keep their distance. Even if they weren't aware of the fear. It was there, buried deep in their conscience. A fear that no one could explain, but the answer was simple for Kara. What were they all afraid of? Her.

The target came around the corner on the North end of the street. He was wearing a long coat and had his hat pulled down around his head to hide his face, but Kara knew it was him. She could smell his odor from where she perched high up on the rooftops. Her body shrouded in darkness from a nearby taller building. He stunk of alcohol and minty cigars that made her crinkle her nose before she looked across the street and gave a little mental green light to her companions. They acknowledged her order by quickly darting over the rooftops toward their mark. With her eyes locked back on to him she could feel the tension and anxiety in his shoulders. The tingle on his spine and even the cold sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. She began to smirk as her co-workers stepped from the shadows in his line of sight when he was stuck in the middle of the street; sadly he was only halfway to his destination.

His fear was in the air now, and he froze as the two assassins slowly made their way toward him. Features hidden in their long cloaks and hoods. He began to back away, and then turned to run but halted immediately as he saw the woman with long white hair standing in front of him. He took a step back but with a glance over his shoulder he would realize that he was hopelessly surrounded. Kara smirked as she took a step out of the shadow she had teleported to. her smile gruesome in the half-light of the moon. "Going somewhere mister?"

His panic was apparent and in desperation he threw his arm back and several shurikens flew at her partner which they dived to the sides to dodge. With his other hand he flicked out a hand-gun and pointed it at the woman that had spoken to him, and fired three times into her soft bosom. Kara stopped as the impact of the bullets ripped through her delicate flesh and looked down as blood began to poor from the wounds. She put her hand over her wounded chest and then looked back up at the man with her lips slightly apart in surprise. "Why on earth would you do that to a woman?" Her hand slowly changed so that each of her fingers began long knife-like claws of darkness and she grinned again as she bolted toward the now terrified man. Her pain was great, but she had felt much worse things then bullets over her years in this line of work. Before he could fire again his wrist was sliced open by her razor claws and she came nearly nose to nose with her target before she stopped.

"You don't smell very nice, but I'm sure you'll taste fine anyways." Her clawed hand sunk into his chest as she impaled his heart with her fingers. His horrified expression frozen on his face as he stared into her gleaming red eyes, and malicious grin. As his life drained away her companions walked up to her and she removed her bloody hand from his chest. "You two can take the head back to headquarters. The rest of him? Is mine." Kara licked her lips before severing the mans head, and taking the body into the darkness for her evening meal.

Ex. #2 Layla Duskhill v.1

Layla kept her eyes locked on the specimen on her table. She was losing time fast, and if she didn't finish soon he would turn out like the rest. "Charles. Scalpel." She demanded holding out her hand but not breaking her gaze from the specimen. Charles growled obediently and stretched to reach the medical tools on the table. He managed to pluck the scalpel up and gently placed it in his Mistresses hand. He then watched carefully as Layla made her incision and used her bare hand to reach inside the hole she made in the body.

She had her tongue stuck out in concentration as she dug around in the specimens body cavity for what she needed. When her hand grasped the soft and warm heart of the man she grinned and giggled like a little girl. "I've got it Charles! Get the container!" As she carefully used her hand to pry out the organ Charles picked up the jar full of awful smelling liquid that they used to preserve the vital pieces to their experiments. Layla slowly but surely tugged the heart out from the dead body without doing any major damage to the tissue and smiled at the bloody organ she held in front of her. "It's perfect Charles... just what we've been looking for."

She placed the heart in the jar and screwed on the lid; Layla was pleased with this experiment. They had gotten an almost perfectly undamaged heart from a fresh body. The man on the table couldn't have been dead for any more then a few hours before she came along with her cart. Filled with satisfaction Layla licked and sucked on the tips of her bloody fingers with a pleasant smile as she walked over to her shelf of ingredients and placed the heart among several other pickled organs. Her recent experiment was coming along to be a great success. It was wonderful! If only she could get the council to be a little less rude about her studies. They always blabbered on about the "morality of such experiments," or "how only bad things can come of black magic.

Ha! Like they knew what it was like. She had been born with dark magic. Sure it wasn't the prettiest of the magics around, but it was the purpose of the magic that mattered, not what it looked like. After all... Even a rose has its thorns, right?

Ex. #3 Layla Duskhill v.2

"I see her! Over there!"

Layla crashed through the brush panting and sobbing. Her bare feet stomped and tripped through the undergrowth; raw and bloody from her journey. There were tears streaming down her dirt covered face, and her breathing was choked by sobs of pain and anger. Blood soaked her robes and skin, though not much of it was her own.

"Quickly! Catch her!" The men chasing her were not far behind. They pursued just at the edge of sight no matter how fast she ran. They were going to catch up, and then she'd be their next victim. Her thighs were aching and her lungs burned with each labored breath. She couldn't keep going forever, pretty soon she wou-...

Her foot caught on a fallen tree that had sunken into the earth and began decaying. She gave a short cry as she tumbled over and began falling down a steep hill. Her small body bounced and rolled through the trees and brush and she came to a stop as her body slammed into a large oak tree trunk. Her scream of agony echoed through the forest as she laid there sobbing and holding her broken ribs. She could hear the men atop the hill shouting at each other to hurry down. Layla couldn't just lie there. She needed to move.

She began to drag herself through the bushes. Her teeth were clenched in pain and her eyes were full of hot tears. She couldn't let them get her, she needed to get away, very far away. As she dragged herself through the dirt her hand grasped something very unexpected; the rough stone of a grave marker. She stopped dragging herself to look at the headstone. It must have been ancient. All the words engraved into it's face were worn away and most of it was covered in lichen. She twisted her head to look around and could see other markers hidden in the tangles of nightshade vines and hazelnut bushes. This was a graveyard.

With all her might she dragged herself into a standing position leaning heavily on a gnarled and broken tree trunk. The russell and crashing of the her pursuers came from a little more then a dozen meters away, and she looked to see at least six men holding flashlights and various melee weapons watching her from the foot of the hill.

"End of the line girl. Your mommy and daddy got what they deserved, and now you need to take your punishment too." The speaker smirked at her taking a step forward with a baseball bat in hand. Layla clenched her teeth and dug her nails into the bark of the dead tree.

She shouted, "Get away! One more step and I'll kill you!" The men only laughed and the one got even closer. Her body was trembling like there was an earthquake. Her eyes stung, her body ached, and her heart felt like their was a giant gaping hole in it. She began sobbing again and held herself like a wounded animal. "I hate you.. I hate you all. So leave me alone. Or, DIE!" She let her anger and frustration out and the air seemed to ripple with her scream. The man stopped with a perplexed look on his face and stared at Layla's eyes burning with hatred. She raised a shaky hand over the hallowed earth below her and grit her teeth as she reached out to the power that filled this forgotten place.

"Duna! Fea en' i' ba!" she shouted and her voice sounded unnaturally loud and clear. The man hesitated for just a moment before once again moving toward her at a brisk stride. "You're gibberish doesn't scare me. Little bra-!" He stopped mid-sentence as his ankle got caught on something. When he looked down he could see a skeletal hand grasping his foot from beneath the soil, and he shouted in terror trying to back away, only to fall on his back amongst the other hidden graves.

The earth heaved and split as the sleeping dead rose from their slumber. disgusting corpses covered in mud and festering flesh rose from the earth as if from some cheesy monster movie. But these monsters were much more lifelike. Their half-decayed bodies incredibly real in front of all the men and Layla. The first man who had tripped scooted back as fast as he could, but Layla was not going to let him go.

"Ndengina ho!" she commanded, but the creatures didn't seem to listen. They groaned and took small half-steps in whatever direction they faced. Her words unheeded. She clenched a fist in her torn robes and growled once more, "Khila lle tura!" Her voice once more rung with unnatural power, and the dead froze in place for a second before turning to face the men that had pursued her. They were all petrified at the sight before them, unable to grasp what they were seeing. The one on the ground flipped himself over and began to stand back up but was dragged back down by a snarling skeleton with only tidbits of flesh still on its bones. He screamed as it dragged him into a bush and tore into his flesh with sharp finger bones and gnashing teeth. The others began to back up the hill tripping over themselves in their stupor. "M-monsters! Let's get the hell out of here!"

They struggled to climb the steep incline grasping at trees and roots to help them ascend, but death was on their heels. Quite literally. Layla held herself against the dead tree panting softly and letting her tears drip down from her chin as she watched them one by one get torn apart. Before her undead minions were even done she turned away and began limping out of the forest. She began to cry again. She was alone, her family was gone, and she had killed people. There was nothing left for her.

After stumbling through the dim light for hours she made it back to where her cabin had been. She walked through the broken front door and solemnly went into her old room. As she made her way to her torn up bed she was surprised to see a little bag with a drawstring hiding under the covers. She gingerly opened tugged it open to find her mothers little runestones that she had always kept with her. There was a new one in the bag, and when Layla pulled it out she saw it had a triangle with two bracket like angles on its side carved into it. She grasped it like it was the most delicate flower in the world, and her heart ached like it never had before. She placed it back in its bag and curled up on the bed. She held the stones closer to her heart as she drifted off in exhaustion...

Ex. #4 Avak Krii v.1

Avak braced himself against the low stone wall; his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. It had been so long since he had been out in the field. The days seemed like distant memories. To most he seemed rather young, and had a youthful grace about him, but that was far from the truth. His body may have retained its youth but his soul had endured enough to last him several lifetimes. What had it been now? Fifteen years? Avak looked down at his worn and calloused hands, his skin almost as rough as the stone beneath his palms. Those hands had gripped a sword in service to his country for as long as he could remember.

He could still remember his first order to defend the the caravans that went out to the farming villages. He was young and and full of energy, but clumsy with his sword and slow in his armor. His arse was always sore from riding his horse back and forth from dawn till dusk. It had been two weeks into his service that his caravan was finally attacked by bandits. Those were the days that even the scum of society had some honor. They had blocked the road with a fallen tree and surrounded the wagons demanding we hand over our goods to them. Avak was much to stubborn to let his charge be stolen from so easily and had dismounted and drawn his sword. He had challenged the men and no matter how much they tried to convince him to back down he would not be swayed. That is what it meant to be a Knight to him back then. Unwavering and brave.

The bandits had beaten him bloody that day. Avak smirked a little as he remembered how stubborn he had been. Although he had been beaten his courageous display delayed the bandits long enough that a patrol came across the caravan and drove the bastards off. He had been brought to the nearest town on a stretcher, but received nothing but praise for his actions. It warmed his heart to remember those days. When he fought for the honor of his name, and the defense of the people. It hadn't lasted long, but he was who he was today because of that stubborn boy who protected the caravans.

Avak looked back up at the horizon one more time and a light salty breeze blew through his hair. He took a deep breath of the fresh ocean air and let his content smile linger on his lips. It mattered not the deeds that he had done on the battlefield, for it had been for his people, and to defend this beautiful land. Nothing, not even death, would dissuade him from this purpose.

Ex. #5 R'saava

The woman tapped her claws impatiently upon the arm of her seat. It wasn't as if she was in a hurry, but the daily routine was tiresome and slightly vexing. Her other set of claws ran idly through her long, icy hair as her bare foot tapped against the marble floors. Servant girls scurried back and forth in distress; the penetrating gaze of their mistress obviously beginning to mount on their anxiety. R'saava let out a deep sigh before rising and waving a clawed hand dismissively.

"Aaz nau zu'u... Just gather my battledress. I will be going out to training grounds today," she commanded. The handmaidens quickly doing as they were told. R'saava stood in the middle of her bedroom, fully nude as she awaited her garments. The first servant arrived with her underwear, and blushed fiercely as she attempted to not stare at the features that made this so difficult. A growl escaped R'saava's lips as she hurried the child along.

"Just get on with it."

The girl nodded and held out R'saava's underwear so she could step into them. With a scowl the empress put her feet through the loops, and watched as the girl gingerly raised them into place; her movements smooth and steady as to not brush her fingers upon R'saava's skin.

"Tch. Next," she growled stretching her arms out in front of her. The servant nervously began to wrap a cloth around her mistress's bosom, holding down the ample breasts securely with a tight knot in the back. She backed away once her job was finished, an obviously relieved look on her face. R'saava only rolled her iridescent eyes before motioning for the next two servants to approach.

These ones did their work even more quickly; fitting quilted padding around her midsection, shins, and biceps. One accidentally brushed her hand over the crystalline scales that covered R'saava's back, and gave a distressed whimper as she flinched away. The empress grit her teeth in annoyance, and snapped the leg of the chair she had sad upon unconsciously. Her tail having wrapped around it without her realizing. The maids looked fearful for a moment, but R'saava said nothing and just waved for them to continue.

Once her basic underclothes and armor were set they hurried to gather the sturdier bits. R'saava went to study herself in the vanity, a critical look upon her already harsh features. Glistening blue scales covered most of her neck, shoulders, ribs and waist; along with the entirety of her back. She even had a tail covered in armor-like scales all the way to it's tip. Her hands couldn't even be called such, as her fingers extended into long jointed claws sharp enough to split a hair. Her outfit was ridiculous as well. A proper bra would never fit, and her underwear was skimpy and too revealing. There was very little she could do however, as her tail made it hard to keep anything else on her lower body.

Ohh... Why did they have to do this every morning? She thought to herself as the steel portion of her armor was brought before her. R'saava stretched her arms as they fitted the semi-plate armor over the parts they had already cushioned. It didn't look as if it was very protective at first, but once they were finished R'saava took over the rest.

She exhaled a long hiss as ice began to form over the metal and further armor her body. In the end she looked like a fearsome creature indeed. Glistening with bright blue ice and dark blue scales. One of the handmaidens placed a steel band around R'saava's forehead, which locked securely to the long horns that stuck out the sides of her head. Ice grew over this too, giving her a turquoise headdress that only accentuated her deadly beauty.

Her icy hues stared into the mirror long and hard, it impossible to gauge what she may have been thinking in those moments, until a smile spread across her lips. "This... is your Empress, mal gein-i."